This Is What Happens
by AlexDayLover
Summary: ... when consulting criminals get bored. They flirt with consulting detectives. Somebody get the first-aid kit.
1. Chapter 1

Jim lounged in his chair, contemplating the mechanics of his iPhone. Such a small item, infinitely tiny on the scale of the universe, but with the power to become someone's entire life. In the case of one Irene Adler, it can also bring one to their knees, literally.

"Bored!" He groaned, laying his phone down. Sebastian Moran, currently cleaning his sniper rifle, looked up.

"You just finished a heist!" He protested, exasparated. Jim shook his head.

"That was hours ago! I need stimulation NOW!" He leapt to his feet. "What are you doing tonight?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes, because he knew Jim wasn't even trying to remember. "I'm going to threaten the Prime Minister's nephew at YOUR request so he gives us access to the PM's offices."

Jim sighed loudly. "So you're leaving me alone."

Sebastian set down his gun. "If you're bored, go play with your friends."

"YOU'RE my friend." Jim spun around. "I don't have any other friends… only inferiors."

"I'm sure you can think of someone who can stand you for more than ten minutes." Sebastian put away his gun. "Now, I have to go buy more tea because SOMEBODY drank it all in one night. How are you still standing after that, anyway?"

Jim waved him off. Shrugging, Sebastian grabbed his wallet and left, slamming the door behind him. Jim sat on the couch, trying to think of anyone he could talk to. Irene? Somewhere in America. Sebastian had left, and Mortimer was shot by Doctor Watson.

Watson… maybe…?

No. They weren't really on good terms after Jim strapped a bomb to the other's chest. Why he took it so personally, Jim didn't know. He only did it to get to Sherlock.

Sherlock! Of course, the Consulting Detective. Who better to talk to for a Consulting Criminal?

In the author's opinion, almost anyone else, but remember, Jim is not exactly sane.

Jim picked up his phone, which had fallen on the floor. Dialing a number, he held the phone to his ear, grinning. Then he closed the phone and abrubtly dropped it. He had a better way of contacting the man.

Tonight was going to be very not boring.

"John. Pass me my laptop." John sighed. Sherlock was lying on the couch, still as a rock, hands pressed together. John grabbed the laptop and deposited it on his flatmate's stomach.

Sherlock opened it. Going to his blog, he checked his visitor count.

"John, you said no one reads my blog?"

"Er… well-"

"That's answer enough, thank you." Sherlock stared at the screen.

In bold numbers, was "1430"

Deciding that something was off, Sherlock committed the number to memory and looked at the recent comments on his latest posts. There were very few, which made the one left by a Mr. Richard Brook stand out immediately.

"Sherly, I'm bored. How about lunch at that Italian place you're so fond of? Left you a time. See you there. 3 ;)"

Sherlock checked the time. It was 2 o'clock.

Abruptly standing up, he remarked, "Going out. Get the first aid kit ready just in case. I should be back by five. Order Chinese for dinner." He grabbed his coat, put his phone in the pocket and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

John had time to say, "First aid kit? Hang on, Sherlock-?" but then Sherlock was down the stairs and out the door.

John sat frozen, staring at the space he last saw Sherlock, then shrugged and pegged it to his flatmate just being himself and went back to reading the paper.

**Well, that was interesting. Whatever shall happen to them? I was going to make this a quickfic, but it sort of ran away and now I can't stop writing. There will be more chapters, so look out for them and review each new one. Pwease? Reviews are my lifeblood.**


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock arrived at Angelo's at 2:20. Pushing open the door he sat in the booth closest to the entrance. Checking his watch, he settled in and watched the sidewalk.

At 2:30 exactly, Jim Moriarty came strolling through the doors, dressed impeccably, in a suit and tie.

"Hey, Sherlock, glad to see you got my message." Jim drawled as he slid into the booth, opposite Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at him, expressionless. "What do you want, Jim?"

"See, that's the issue." Jim picked up the salt shaker, examining it. "I found myself bored earlier today, and Sebbie suggested that I, how did he say, play with my friends. Well. I only have one friend, and he was busy, so I thought about people I could actually socialize with as myself, instead of, say, pretending to be a gay boyfriend."

"But that's what you are." Sherlock sipped his water. "You are a gay boyfriend."

Sebastian laughed. "Oh Sherly, no. I'm not dating anyone, so the "boyfriend" part is incorrect. But I digress. Anyway, I was thinking, and I thought of you!"

"I'm flattered, really." Sherlock folded his hands. "So you're not pretending right now, you really are this crazy?"

"Pretend with you? Never!" Sebastian looked offended at such a thought. "No, I just thought we could put aside our differences and be friends!"

"By differences, you mean I solve crimes and you commit felonies habitually?" Sherlock clarified.

Jim nodded, smiling broadly.

Deciding that he himself was too bored to do anything different, Sherlock chuckled. "You and me, friends. I suppose we could give it a try."

Jim clapped excitedly. "Oh, yay, we're going to have such fun!"

Angelo approached their table. "Hello Sherlock, sorry I didn't notice you earlier. Would you like a candle for you and your date?"

"That would be wonderful." Jim said, looking innocently at Sherlock. Angelo nodded and winked at the detective, going to grab one.

"If you're going to eat, I suggest the ravioli. It's the special this week." Sherlock informed Jim.

"And what will you have?" Jim inquired, eyes twinkling.

Sherlock shrugged. "Not really hungry."

"Well, you can't just leave me eating by myself." Jim protested. "Why not just order a side?"

Sherlock humored his new "friend" and ordered a salad when Angelo returned with the candle, while Jim took his advice and ordered the ravioli.

When Angelo brought their orders, Jim dug in heartily. "You're right," He said to Sherlock, "this is really good."

"I'm always right." Sherlock half-smiled.

"You haven't even touched your salad." Jim noticed. "And don't tell me you're not hungry, its been at least three days since you last ate. And I know you don't have a case to solve otherwise you wouldn't be here with me, so eat!"

When Sherlock just looked out the window, Jim smiled mischievously and picked up Sherlock's fork, scooping up some lettuce. "Here comes the dead body, ready the MRI scanner!"

"Thank god you didn't say choo-choo train." Sherlock acknowledged as he took the fork from Jim's grasp and ate the lettuce.

"We're grown men, Sherlock. Do you think I would honestly subject you to that?" Jim chastised.

"Subjected me to far worse." The detective commented, taking another bite.

"I was bored, what was I supposed to do?" Jim sighed. "Let's just put that all behind us, hmm?"

"Easy for you to say. You're best friend wasn't threatened or put in mortal peril." Sherlock glared at Jim, who raised his hands in defeat.

"No, that's true. Sebastian doesn't really do damsel in distress well."

"John is surprisingly good at it." The two shared a small laugh.

True to his word, Sherlock was back at 4:45. John had just ordered Chinese takeout and was watching crap telly.

"What, no harpoon today?" John asked when he saw Sherlock enter. "Dinner should be here soon. Where did you go, anyway?"

"Lunch with a friend." His flatmate responded, taking off his scarf.

"A friend!" John stood up immediately.

"Yes." Sherlock sank down on the couch and grabbed his laptop.

John smiled. "Good for you, Sherlock! Finally making friends."

"Hmm." Sherlock acknowledged. John shook his head, barely bothered by the pitiful response. Maybe now Sherlock wouldn't be pestering him so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sherly, hope you don't mind, I got us tickets to the fair! I'll pick you up at noon. See you then! -JM**

"John, what time is it?" Sherlock asked, a bit panicked. He was currently in the middle of an experiment that could not be interrupted.

John checked his watch. "A bit past eight."

Sherlock relaxed. He would be done by then. He continued to drop citric acid on the rotted mouse tail.

At eleven, he stuck the experiment in the fridge and ran to his room. John, who was reading a book, looked up when he heard odd sounds coming from that direction.

Knocking on the door, he called, "Sherlock? You okay?"

The door opened. Sherlock stood in a pair of dark jeans and a striped hooded shirt. John stared.

"Too casual?" Sherlock fiddled with the hood strings.

"Why?" John finally asked, surprised at the man's very informal outfit.

"Going to the carnival with a friend." Sherlock stated. "Shouldn't dress in a suit, obviously."

"I didn't even know you owned clothes like that." John leaned against the door frame. "You always wear… well, suits."

Sherlock strode past him. "I've always had these."

"Right…" John followed him. "So, when will you be home?"

"What are you now, my keeper?" Sherlock asked as he collected his coat and scarf. "I'll be home later."

"Alright. Well, have fun, I suppose." John waved as Sherlock stepped out the door. Looking through the glass, he saw Sherlock get into a black car that was loitering in front of the flat, which then drove off.

Not quite believing his luck, John called Sarah and set up a date while he was sure Sherlock wouldn't interrupt.

"Candy floss, Sherlock?" Jim held out a stick of spun sugar to the man as he approached. He was leaning against a post, just inside the entrance. Sherlock made his way up to the man and took the treat.

"Thanks." He said unenthusiastically. Jim smiled and tilted his head, looking Sherlock up and down. "I like the new look."

"What do you want?" Sherlock snapped. Jim looked surprised.

"Same greeting as last time, Sherly? Boring! And to answer the question, I don't want anything except you're company. We are friends. This is what friends do!" He gestured around him. "They go to carnival and get together and have fun! They make dates. This is a get together, Sherlock!"

Sherlock bit into his candy floss. "Well. What are we standing around for?"

Jim pulled out a map of the park. "There are several attractions around that I think we would like. Just so you know, there are snipers stationed all over the park if you try to arrest me or kill me. So let's go have fun!"

Leading the way, Jim pulled Sherlock (who was reluctantly following) to the first attraction.

By the end of the day, Sherlock and Jim were both laughing. Jim was telling a story about an idiotic banker who had the NERVE to ask if Jim would like to make a deposit when clearly he wanted to make a withdrawal, and Sherlock was snorting back laughter.

"I mean, he couldn't even read my stance or look at me and see I had no wallet or pockets. What was I supposed to deposit? Huh? Really."

Sherlock nodded, chuckling. "It saddens me when people can't pick up on the most obvious clues. There are very few men like us, Jim. Very few."

"So true." Jim leaned forward. They were sitting at a small table opposite each other. "That's why we need to stick together, Sherlock."

Before Sherlock could respond, Jim stood up. "That was a lovely day. Sebbie's waiting with the car to drive you home. Byebye, Sherlock. Thanks for a good time!" He turned and disappeared into the crowd. Sherlock noticed several people follow him after a minute, eyes out for potential threats. He casually stood as well, straightening his shirt, then left the carnival. The same black car that picked him up was waiting in the car park, Sebastian Moran at the wheel.

Sherlock opened the back door and got in.

"221B, Mr. Holmes?" Sebastian asked, grinning at him in the mirror.

"No. St. Bart's Hospital, please." Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. "And don't hang around, I'll find my own way home."

"Whatever you say." Sebastian pulled out of the car park. "You're the boss."


	4. Chapter 4

Molly was anxiously pacing back and forth while she waited for Sherlock. Broken arm! She had gathered various medical equipment from around the room so she would know where it was. How dreadful, she knew he shouldn't have been skiing this time of year.

The door swung open. Molly jumped. "Sherlock, are you okay? I've got all the necessary treatment and I- wait. Your arm looks fine."

"It is." Sherlock sat down in a chair. "I just needed you here quickly."

"But I… you… but…" Molly spluttered, trying to find words.

"Yes, I tricked you. I do so frequently. But I need your advice." Sherlock waved a hand. Molly immediately stopped stuttering.

"YOU need MY advice?" She asked in disbelief.

"Only a bit. If you had a friend who fancied you, but made a small effort to hide it, and who out of the blue asks you on dates that he claims are just outings as friends, what would you do?" Sherlock spoke in rapid-fire. Molly blinked.

"He?" She though she heard a critical pronoun in that sentence. Sherlock didn't say anything for a moment, then explained, "This is a hypothetical situation. This scenario is for you. If I said "she" it would have been incorrect as you clearly fancy men."

"Oh." Molly nodded. "Well… um, I would probably… get to know the person. I mean… you probably only need to look at them once to, but, um, yeah, talk to them and find things out. Find things you have in common. If you like them, consider returning or accepting their advances." She looked at Sherlock sternly. "DO NOT be rude or make fun of their liking you. It might crush them, okay?"

Sherlock listened. "Okay. Is that all?"

Molly thought. "Um… if they don't seem like your type, just let them know gently and nicely. Not just say it like you say… well, everything."

"Alright. Thank you, Molly, that was excellent advice. By the way," Sherlock said as he stood, "There's something for you in that cupboard over there. From me. Happy birthday."

Molly looked curiously at the cupboard after Sherlock had left. He remembered her birthday? More curiously, he had gotten her something?

Opening the door while bracing herself for a severed head or something equally horrible, she stared when she saw her gift.

Gently lifting the cat carrier out of the cupboard, she set it down and opened the small gate. A fuzzy nose poked out.

Molly picked up the frightened white kitten. "Shhh… aww, you're so cute! Sherlock got you for me?"

The kitten mewed. Molly giggled. It was lovely.

"John, where's my scarf?" Sherlock was searching the flat madly. "I can't find it."

"John?" Sherlock paused. No answer. It would seem as if John was away. Vaguely Sherlock recalled John saying something about needing milk. He hadn't exactly paid attention. But deducing the John was out at the grocery store, Sherlock was alone at the flat and now he was incredibly bored.

He found his scarf. Somehow it had worked it's way into the fridge. It wouldn't offer much warmth for awhile.

What could he do to ease his boredom. Sherlock pondered this. He had exactly two experiments running, but neither would need attention for at least ten hours. His eyes wandered over to the bookshelf. He knew that he had a small supply of cocaine hidden there, within a copy of Jane Eyre.

No. He promised Mycroft and Lestrade he wouldn't resort to that anymore.

So what could he do. What to do…

Jim. Sherlock wondered if the Consulting Criminal was busy. He would definitely entertain Sherlock.

Deciding that he had nothing else to do, Sherlock sent the criminal a quick text.

Bored. -SH

His phone buzzed a moment later.

Coming over. -JM

Sherlock made tea. Setting out some biscuits that he found in a cupboard that weren't stale, and a bowl of fruit, he waited on the couch, fiddling with his phone.

Ten minutes later, Jim walked up the stairs. "Hello!"

Sherlock didn't budge. "Sit down if you want."

Jim sat. "So, what can I do for you today, hmm? A bit down in the dumps?"

Sherlock sighed. "A bit." He didn't look as if he enjoying Jim's presence. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Jim grinned. "I could fix it. Go on, say it. I shan't do nothing until you say it."

Sherlock gave him an unamused look. Jim refused to let up. "Say it!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but obliged. Taking a deep breath, he grit his teeth and said, "Please Jim, won't you fix it for me?"

Jim laughed. "Of course, anything for a client!" He grabbed an apple. "What say you and I go to the park? Hmm? Could be fun..." He tried to entice Sherlock.

The other man was reluctant. "Has there been a murder at the park?"

"There could be." Jim got a glint in his eye and Sherlock could tell he absolutely was not joking.

"No park today. How about the museum?" Sherlock stood, untangling his long legs. "Been awhile. In fact, I haven't been there since you hired a Chinese smuggling gang to get my attention. This time should be more fun, considering no one will be trying to kill me. Right?" He checked as he loped past Jim, who had risen as well.

"Of course, Sherly. You're with me. Nobody would dare harm you." Jim followed close behind, still wearing his big grin. "I watch out for my friends."

**Hmm... perhaps Jim has less than honest intentions. Only one way to find out for sure. Write him having less than honest intentions. It's fun being the author! What do you all think of the chapter? Let me know in reviews! DFTBA, Blair.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, I know I said Jim might have less than honorable intentions, but that's not how this chapter turned out. Actually, I think it's quite cute. But whatever, it's not like this is a romance fic or anything.**

Sebastian, predictably, was at the wheel of Jim's car.

"Where to, Jim?" He asked, slight cockney accent.

"Museum, Sebbie." Jim opened the car door for Sherlock, who slid past him with a nod.

"On it." Sebastian drove quickly, and even Sherlock wanted to roll his eyes at the route they were taking, he got them there in a relatively short time.

"I'll text you to pick us up." Jim told him as the two got out of the car. Sebastian nodded and drove off. Jim held out his arm to Sherlock, who looked at it, at Jim, then turned and started up the steps to the museum. Jim chuckled and followed the detective.

The museum was quite fascinating, really, to the surprise of Sherlock. The artwork, though mundane, was certainly the product of talent and, as Sherlock said to Jim while they observed a peculiar painting of a girl with rabbit ears, "Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius."

Jim nodded at that, eyes on the canvas. "Genius recognizes genius, too." Sherlock looked at him. Jim looked up and smiled, then walked over to the sculptures. Sherlock stayed fixed for a moment, then joined him.

They got sandwiches from the cafe and ate them outside on the steps. It was a curiously nice day for London, warm and sunny, and Jim lay back and basked in the light. Sherlock happened to glance down beside him while Jim had his eyes closed, and found he could not look away from Jim's face.

Eventually Jim opened his eyes, immediately meeting Sherlock's. "Yes?" He asked in a singsong voice.

"I think it's time to go back now." Sherlock said, after thinking. Jim sat up and looked at his watch, a stainless steel Rolex.

"I suppose... you're right." Jim texted Sebastian. "He'll be here in six minutes."

"Perfect." Sherlock watched a family of four pass by, a mother, father, teenage boy and young girl. "He's gay and she's got the making of a physicist. The parents must be proud."

Jim looked as they passed. "Hmm... the father is oblivious, the mother suspects. The son has a boyfriend who he's quite serious about, Max, who he tattoed the name of on his arm. The father thinks it's a girl's name, the mother wonders. The little girl knows, but doesn't understand, and the son is teaching her physics in an effort to persuade her not to tell their folks."

Sherlock glanced sideways at Jim as he spoke. He had noticed all of this and more, of course, it was just nice to hear someone else say it.

Sebastian pulled up in front of them. They got in the car and Sebastian drove Sherlock back to 221B. When he got out, he nodded to Moriarty. "Thanks for the company."

"My pleasure." Jim grinned as the car sped off. Sherlock opened the door to the flat and went inside.

John was back by the time Sherlock walked up the stairs. "Oi, where have you been?" He asked offhandedly. "Hopefully not harpooning pigs again. I got a call from the guys at the tube, you know."

"No no, I just went to the museum." Sherlock took off his coat, hanging it up.

"Murder to investigate?" John asked.

"Date." Sherlock said. John choked.

"A date!" He cleared his throat. "You, on a date!"

"That is what you call it, right?" Sherlock grabbed a biscuit from the kitchen. "When two people who fancy each other go out for the day?"

"Fancy! You... like someone?" John asked. "I should be glad, but, is she nice? Smart? Pretty?"

"Wrong pronoun, John." Sherlock looked around. "Where's my laptop?"

"Wrong..._ HE?!_" John practically yelled. Sherlock looked at him.

"Yes, he. Where is my laptop?"

John pointed to where Sherlock's laptop rested underneath a stack of files. "There. Now, you went out with a bloke who you fancy and who fancies you back. Where did you go?"

"The museum."

"And what did you do?"

Sherlock looked at him. "We looked at art, what else does one do in a museum?"

John rubbed his face. "...Okay. good so far. What's his name?"

Sherlock felt that, for some reason, John wouldn't like to hear how he went on a date with Jim Moriarty, the man who threatened to kill them both. Still, he was clever enough to know that inventing a name would eventually land him in trouble, so instead he took a large bite of his biscuit and escaped to his room, snatching the laptop on the way.

John had to sit down to sort out his thoughts, and do some serious thinking about what it could mean when Sherlock doesn't say who he's, in effect, dating.

When Jim and Sebastian returned to the flat, Sebastian couldn't help but notice Jim's face was sort of... glowing.

"Good day, boss?" He asked curiously as he opened the door and walked inside. Jim nodded.

"...And what made it good?" Sebastian followed up his question when Jim didn't seem as if he would explain.

"I went on a date, you know that." Jim laid down on the couch. "Silly Sebbie."

"That was a date? With Sherlock Holmes?" Sebastian was surprised.

Jim gestured for Sebastian to come closer. "I think he likes me!" Jim giggled. His voice was high-pitched, like a child's. "And I lo-o-ove him!"

Sebastian shook his head, grinning. "Whatever you say, boss. Good for you."

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"Did you beat the shit out of the Prime Minister's nephew like I asked you to?"

"Of course, boss."

"...Good."

**Reviews are love!**


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock was mooning over the fact that there hadn't been a good case in days. John was getting sick of hearing him moan and whine, and they had even played a game of Cluedo, proving to John that Sherlock had the emotional range of a four year old.

"THE VICTIM KILLED HIMSELF, IN THE LIBRARY, WITH THE CANDLESTICK!"

"Sherlock, he can't kill himself!"

"IT'S THE ONLY EXPLANATION!"

"SHERLOCK, JUST ADMIT THE FACT YOU LOST AND CLEAN UP THE BOARD!"

"NO!"

Needless to say, the Cluedo board ended up pinned to the wall with a knife.

Now John was getting tired. "Sherlock, why don't you call your friend?"

"You are my friend."

"Your other friend."

"...I don't want to."

"Why not?" John asked. "I thought you two were, I dunno, dating. You haven't even talked about him since you came back from the museum."

"You wouldn't understand." Sherlock retorted. He knew perfectly well that John could understand, he just didn't want to explain it to him.

John sighed. "Well, quit your groaning. I'm trying to update my blog."

He turned his attentions to his laptop. At the end of his post, he added another paragraph.

- Sherlock's driving me crazy. He hasn't had a case for nearly four days and he's driving me up the walls with his moaning. He won't get off the couch, just lies there and complains about how bored he is. I wish something would just show up soon for him to do. -

He hit upload. About twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

"Sherlock, would you get that?" John asked.

"No."

"Of course not." John muttered to himself, getting up and going downstairs.

At the door stood a rugged, blonde man in shades. "Tell Sherlock that Moran's here to pick him up." He said to John, tapping his steel-toed boots on the step.

"Moran?" John asked.

The man nodded. "My employer sent me to collect Sherlock. Tell him to get dressed and come down."

"Aaanndd... who's your employer?" John was curious.

The man, Moran, apparently, stayed silent. John sighed. "Alright, wait here, I'll go get him."

He went upstairs where Sherlock was still sulking in his dressing gown. "Sherlock, some guy named Moran is here to pick you up, says get dressed and that his employer sent him."

Sherlock was up in a flash. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He ran to his room, where John heard him ripping his closet open to find clothes. "He only just got here!" John called. "Who is he?" He got no reply. "Sherlock, I want to meet this guy you're dating!"

Sherlock came out of his bedroom, normal attire on; a suit, no tie, and nice shoes. He didn't answer John, just grabbing a pair of keys and his phone and leaving. John looked out the window as Sherlock nodded to Moran, who grinned devilishly at him before they both got in the car and drove of, Moran at the wheel.

John resolved to confront Sherlock when he came home. He didn't like this. Moran didn't seem like a trustworthy man, and John suspected that whoever his employer was, was the man Sherlock was "dating." If Sherlock felt the need to keep the guy's identity a secret, it didn't bode well for John. The army doctor worried his lip before going back upstairs.

"So, Mr. Holmes." Sebastian tried to start a conversation. "Boss has been upset you haven't texted lately."

"I've been busy." Sherlock answered.

"We both know that's not true." Sebastian said. "Your flatmate posted on his blog that you hadn't had a case for days. What's the real reason?"

"Who says there is one?" Sherlock didn't look at him. Sebastian grinned.

"Look, Mr. Holmes, I've lived with Jim for a long time. I couldn't help but pick up a few things, like how to tell when someone's got something to hide. Even you, with your cleverness and all, can't completely hide away your emotions. You say you're a sociopath? You're not. You just can't be bothered with beings of lesser intelligence who can't see the world the way you do. Well, Jim isn't one of those beings. He's just like you. So tell me what is you're thinking right now."

"This is an awfully long drive." Sherlock grumbled.

Sebastian shrugged. "We've a ways to go yet."

Sherlock fiddled with his keys. "Why are you so interested?"

Sebastian didn't take his eyes of the road, but his gaze hardened. "Jim is my best friend as well as my boss. He loves you. I want to make sure you don't break his heart like you did that Hooper girl, because if you do, I will rip your lungs out and crush them with my hands."

Sherlock understood the threat. "You're quite protective."

"Oh, I have a feeling your Watson will have the same reaction once you tell him." Sebastian chuckled darkly. Sherlock almost shuddered at the thought.

They arrived presently at another flat, 109 Royal Way. Sherlock assumed it was Jim's residence, which was confirmed by the fact that Sebastian didn't even bother with knocking, just pulling out some keys and opening the door.

"Come on in, I guess he's upstairs." He called to Sherlock. The detective followed the sniper into the building.

"Tea?" Sebastian offered.

"No thanks." Sherlock looked around. It was larger than 221B, more area, and spotless. The furniture looked recently dusted, there were no dishes in the sink, and the various weapons Jim and Sebastian had were in special closets.

Sebastian saw Sherlock staring and shrugged. "Jim hates clutter."

"I can see." Sherlock said shortly.

"Speak of the devil..." Sebastian commented as the man appeared from down the hall. "I'm gonna go pick up some groceries. Need anything?"

"No thanks, Sebby. Be safe." Jim responded as he leaned against the wall.

"Of course, Boss." Sebastian took his leave. Sherlock heard him slam the door and start the car up, peeling away from the sidewalk.

"So, Sherlock. Heard you were rather bored. Thought I might help." Jim drawled.

Sherlock shifted slightly on his feet. "I really must tell John not to mention me in his blog."

"He won't listen." Jim correctly predicted. "You know what you should tell him instead? About us."

"What about us?" Sherlock pretended not to understand.

Jim smiled languidly. "Oh, Sherlock. Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you. You know just as well as I do that we are two of a kind. It's only natural that we feel... the way we do."

Sherlock wasn't going to play along. "And what way do we feel?"

Jim grew tired. Suddenly, Sherlock found the criminal two inches from his face, pressing his body flush against the detective's. Sherlock could feel the man's hot breath on his face as Jim grinned.

"You tell me." He whispered slowly, his gaze flickering from Sherlock's lips to his eyes.

Sherlock decided that it would be pointless to try and struggle at this point. He had already deduced this fate when he returned from the museum, he just didn't want to accept it. Sure, he was feeling emotions he didn't think he was capable of, and sure, Jim did suit him nicely, and sure, he would be damned if Jim's lips didn't look inviting...

That decided it. Sherlock leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. Jim responded quickly, deepening and roughening the kiss, running his hands through Sherlock's hair. He nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip, and the taller man opened his mouth, granting entrance to Jim's tongue. The two were enjoying this, even the detective, and as the kiss gradually grew more and more involved-

Sherlock's phone went off in his pocket.

Jim broke the kiss, laughing. "If that's your pet, tell him to go away."

Sherlock scowled at his phone. "It is. Can I have him meet me here, actually?"

Jim knew immediately why. "Sounds brilliant. You know the address."

Sherlock answered the call. "What, John? What- again?! Bloody Lestrade, what for this time? Oh, really? And what do you think? I see. John, I want you to meet me at another flat, okay? The address is 109 Royal Way, just come as soon as you can, you hear? Yes, now. I don't care, they won't find anything. Is Anderson there? Really? Good. The flat always smells after he's been there. Anyway. Just come!" He hung up.

"Scotland Yard is doing another drugs bust." He said in answer to Jim's raised eyebrow. "John should be leaving now."

"With the Yard still in the flat?" Jim questioned.

"I've gotten rid of anything they could define as drugs, so it should be fine."

"And why are they there in the first place?" Jim wanted to know.

Sherlock almost giggled. "Lestrade's noticed I've seemed "happier" as John put it, and thought I might be using."

"And are you happier?" Jim asked, taking Sherlock's phone and sliding it back into his pocket, entwining his fingers with the detective's.

"That depends." Sherlock smiled down at him.

"On?"

"On whether you kiss me now." Sherlock said, a bit cheekily. Jim grinned and obliged.


	7. Chapter 7

"I've got to go, don't touch anything in the fridge!" John yelled, exasperated.

"You're leaving?" Lestrade asked. "We're still going to search the place."

"Sherlock needs me. I have to go." John told him, searching for his gun.

"Well, if he asks you for a light, don't give it to him." Lestrade offered a bit of advice.

"Why would I even have a light, Greg?" John found his gun, slipping it into his pocket and struggling with his shoes.

"I don't know, you could keep one in your jumper." Greg grinned and waved.

John glared. "Don't break anything." He left, catching a cab and repeating the address Sherlock had given him. After they arrived, John paid the cabbie and walked up the stairs to the flat. He knocked on the door.

Sherlock and Jim both heard the sounds of John's footsteps coming up before he knocked. Reluctantly pulling apart, they grinned at each other, Sherlock smoothing his hair and Jim fixing his collar.

"It's open!" Sherlock called. The two genius relaxed on the couch as John came into the room. John, however, became far from relaxed when he saw Moriarty. He didn't draw his gun, because he saw Sherlock looked perfectly at ease, but he did ask in a hard tone, "What is he doing here?"

Sherlock looked at the army doctor. "Have a seat, John, we have something to tell you."

John sat. Looking, bewildered, between the two men, he asked, "Is this the guy you've been seeing?"

"He picks thing up quick, I see why you like him." Jim whispered audibly to Sherlock.

John scowled. "Seriously, Sherlock? Moriarty? You want a psychopath as a boyfriend, is that wise?"

Jim took Sherlock's hand and held it. "Oh, John, of course it's not wise! Nor is it practical. But it is rather perfect, if you think about it. We're two sides of the same coin. No matter how hard we try, we're always connected."

Sherlock nodded. "Precisely. And after Jim contacted me the first time-"

"Our first date!" Jim squealed.

"-we gradually realized a joint union would be conceivable and probably the best option." Sherlock finished.

"By which he means we fell in love, and he's too stuffy to say it!" Jim chuckled, tossing an arm casually around Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock blinked. John watched him carefully, still trying to come to terms with this in his head.

"I do love you." Sherlock smiled that adorable smile at Jim, who pecked his lips before leaning his head on the detective's shoulder.

"See? Nothing to worry about, Johnnyboy, it's all good." Jim drawled.

John nodded slowly. "...Sherlock? Could I have a word with Moriarty?"

Sherlock squeezed Jim's hand as he obliged, getting up and going downstairs.

John sat still for a few seconds, debating the best way to ask what he wanted to know.

"Screw it." He drew his gun, holding it out in front of him, but away from Jim. "What sort of sick game is this, huh? Setting up crimes wasn't enough, now you have to break his heart, too? I don't know how you got Sherlock to fall for this, but I haven't you hear? I know you're up to something and I won't let you hurt him. How could even think of something like this? First poor Molly, and now him? You are one messed-up bastard, You know that?" He shouted angrily.

To his surprise, Jim smiled. "You are certainly protective. That's good... a loyal friend would go to the ends of the earth for those he trusts. But this isn't a game." His voice grew serious. "I do love Sherlock. And I have no intention of breaking his heart. I won't hurt him, John. Do you believe me? I won't hurt him."

John took a step back. Somehow, Jim had moved from the couch to right in John's face, looking deadly serious.

"You don't have to trust me." Jim said. "But trust Sherlock. He knows. He loves me. You heard him just now. Do you think he's capable of saying those words to someone he doesn't believe in, mind, heart and soul? Maybe we've only been on friendly terms for a short while, but that's all the time people like us need to understand. There's no backing out. There's no changing our minds. And there's no breaking our hearts." Jim stared at John, letting his words sink in.

John clutched his gun. Jim noticed the movement, smiling once again and seating himself back on the sofa. "Is that all?" He asked, examining his nails. "I'd like to see my boyfriend again."

John tucked the weapon away again. Peering at Jim curiously now, he called, "Okay, Sherlock, come on in!"

The detective walked in cautiously, glancing at John as he sat beside Jim, snaking an arm around the smaller man's waist and holding him close. "Well?"

John took a breath. "I suppose I can't really do anything to stop this, much as I distrust Moriarty, but he seems to have convinced me that, if nothing else, you know what you're doing and if it falls to shit I'll be there to put a bullet in his skull. So, I guess this is okay, but I don't want to hear about your... exploits or anything, because I'll be sick. Now I'm going to go and make fun of Lestrade and his team because I need to take my mind off the fact I just agreed to letting my best friend date the most dangerous man in pretty much the world. Sherlock, buy tea on your way home, we're out." And with that, he stood and walked out.

Sherlock and Jim listened to his footsteps as he walked down the hall and out the door. When they heard him leave, both of them simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, that went well." Jim observed after a heavy silence.

They both broke out laughing.

"Lestrade, you can leave now." John said as he entered 221B. There were cops all over the flat, mostly gagging at various grisly experiments.

"We haven't finished." Greg told him. "Sorry, but we can't leave."

"Yes you can. I know why Sherlock's seemed happier lately, and it isn't drugs." John sighed, looking around at all of the people.

Lestrade looked at him. "Really? I'm glad to hear it. What is it?"

John made a face. "It's his... boyfriend."

The room sort of stopped. Those who had heard John just froze in their tracks, and those who hadn't copied because they didn't know what was going on.

"The Freak has a boyfriend?!" An annoying voice asked. "Is it you?"

"What... when did he get here?" John asked, spluttering. "I swear he wasn't here when I left."

Lestrade sighed. "He showed up as soon as he heard we were having a drugs bust. Apologies, John. Anderson, keep moving! In fact, pack it up, we're leaving!"

Anderson glowered. "No but really, is it you?" He repeated, snickering.

"Course it's not me!" John denied. "I'm not gay!"

Lestrade yelled at Anderson again and the man slunk off to collect his supplies. The rest of the team did the same, packing up their things and whispering to each other.

After a few minutes, Lestrade asked, "So, um, who is it then?"

John paused. "Ah... some bloke."

"You've met him, then?" Lestrade checked.

"Yeah, he seems nice." John was uncomfortable discussing this. "Maybe Sherlock ought to tell you."

"Alright." Lestrade signaled to the team. "Come on then, we've all got work to do somewhere else!"

On his way out, Lestrade told John, "Hey, have Sherlock call me. I'd like to meet this guy."

"Can do, Greg." John waved as they left.

Sighing, he dropped into his chair. At least his leg was feeling well. The excitement of the day wasn't all bad. He closed his eyes for a doze.

Sherlock left Jim's flat, parting with a long kiss to Jim and a nod to Sebastian, who had returned earlier. He stopped by Tesco's and bought tea, then returned to 221B.

He saw John napping in his chair. Smiling, he set the tea in the kitchen and woke the doctor.

"Wha...?" The man asked, opening his eyes.

"You didn't look very comfortable." Sherlock said, laying on the couch and picking up his laptop.

John shook a crick out of his neck. "No, I wasnt. How was... Jim?"

"Jim's good." Sherlock said. Then he looked at John. "I'd like to thank you for caring about me enough to threaten him, and also for trusting me enough to let me stay with him."

"It's really not my place to tell you who you can or can't date, Sherlock-" John started, but Sherlock cut him off.

"No, it really isn't, but your opinion still means a lot to me because you are my best friend, and I think that gives your voice weight in situations like these. Thank you for not making me choose and also for not shooting Jim. That would have been not good." Sherlock quirked a lip.

John chuckled. "Hey, as long as he doesn't actually burn your heart out, I think I can get used to it."

"Good." Sherlock went back to his laptop.

John picked up a book nearby and started reading. Then he thought, "Oh god, what will Lestrade say?"

Sherlock laughed.

**Remember to review, you guys, and let me know if I should continue this! I'm debating whether to end it here or to write in NSY's and Mycroft's and Molly's reactions. Tell me what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**And here's Greg's reaction! Turned out different from what I imagined, but I'm satisfied with it. So let me know in reviews who else you want to see react to this new relationship, and I'll try and acquiesce. Alright, DFTBA, you guys. Blair out.**

"John, we've got a case. Let's go." Sherlock yelled, wrapping his scarf around his neck. John was in his bedroom reading.

"Coming!" He called back, closing his book and searching for his shoes.

The two took a cab to the address Lestrade gave Sherlock. The Consulting Detective stepped out and hurried into the building, John on his heels.

Several Yarders were bustling around, but Sherlock pushed past them all to speak with Lestrade.

"This is the third in a week, correct?" He clarified.

Lestrade nodded. "We can't figure out who's responsible. There's no evident correlation between them all, except for the victims."

"Female, between twenty and twenty-five, brunette, glasses." Sherlock rattled off a list of descriptions.

"That's right." Lestrade started to say something, but was cut off by a sergeant poking his head in the door.

"Sir? There's a man here to see Sherlock, but it's the man from-"

"Let him in." Sherlock said immediately. The man looked at him.

"But it's-"

"I said, let him in!" Sherlock repeated, staring down the man. Lestrade waved a hand.

"Go on then, we're not in the room with the body, it should be fine." The man looked at him doubtfully, then turned and gestured to someone out in the hall.

"SHERLOCK!" Jim rushed past the grimacing sergeant and launched himself into Sherlock's arms. "Missed you!"

Lestrade pulled his gun. "Woah, Sherlock, is that James Moriarty?" The man who stole the crown jewels? Twice? He stared in disbelief as Sherlock pecked Jim's forehead.

"He was let off, you can't arrest him." Sherlock reminded Lestrade, gently prying Jim's arms from around his neck.

Lestrade looked helplessly at John, who shrugged. "Told you he found a boyfriend."

"Wait, boyfriend? Sherlock, that criminal's your- _What_?" Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hang on, give me a minute."

Jim held Sherlock's hand. Now that John saw them together naturally, he was surprised at the contrast between the two.

Sherlock stood tall and rigid, in his normal, mysterious coat and scarf, looking generally bored. On the other hand, Jim leaned against him, looking playful and happy, though clearly mad, and his height was a stark difference. He was also wearing a tee-shirt and fitted jeans with boots, another contrast from what John was used to seeing him in. He grimaced.

"Hello, Jim. We're working." He greeted the man.

Jim grinned. "I know! I just wanted to see Sherly, I missed him, you know."

Sherlock pulled Jim close to him, an arm around the other's shoulder. "Although I am glad to see you, too, this is important. If you can help, you can stay. I'd love it if you worked with me."

"Oh, no, no, I won't take dearest Johnny's place." Jim declined. "Just popped in for a bit. I'll see you, Sherlock. Bye!" He blew a kiss and then left Sherlock's side and disappeared out the door.

Lestrade looked up. "That... was your boyfriend."

"Yes. Was that not clear?" Sherlock asked, generally wondering.

John waved him off. "Yes, Greg, that was Jim Moriarty, Sherlock's boyfriend. He's alright, really. And Sherlock trusts him, so I trust him, too."

"Seriously?" Lestrade regarded him, doubtful.

"Well..." John faltered. "I wouldn't accept a drink from him, but I do think he's fine in general. Sherlock knows what he's doing."

"I'm right here, and I do know what I'm doing, I always do." Sherlock scoffed. "Honestly, Lestrade, as long as he doesn't disturb your crime scenes, what does it matter to you?"

"It matters because you're my friend, Sherlock, and I want to make sure your choice of boyfriend is a good one!" Lestrade said, exasperated.

"Sir! You'd better come!" A voice from outside.

The three men rushed outside to find Anderson doubled over in pain with Donovan standing worriedly over him. "What the bloody hell happened?" Lestrade demanded.

"Some bloke was walking out, and just all of a sudden attacked him!" Sally complained.

"What did Anderson do?" John asked, already knowing what happened.

"Nothing, we were just talking about the Freak." Sally said.

"And did this bloke hear you insult Sherlock?"

Sally stuttered. "Well... I, I don't know, maybe-"

"You've just met Sherlock's boyfriend, congratulations." John muttered. Lestrade chuckled.

"Alright, I suppose Moriarty might be alright." He relented. Sherlock rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yes, well..." He stood for a minute, then headed back inside the building. John caught him wearing a small smile.


End file.
